The Lycan King's Defiant Surrogate

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Caleb's vision is red as he closes his hands around the traitor's throat. He has her up against the wall, her feet dangling, kicking wildly. She claws at Caleb's hands with her dull human fingernails, as if that would ever be enough for him to not see justice done. "C-Caleb..." she gasps, the villain, trying to manipulate him by saying his name so informally. Her and her cohorts may have absconded him from his capital, but no matter where he goes, he will always be king. "That's King Caleb," he growls.

A warm drop of water drips down onto his hand. He's indoors. How could it be raining? No, it's not rain. The drop was a tear from the traitor...

Something shifts in the back of Caleb's mind. He knows this person... She's...

Pain bursts in his head, his headache overcoming him so quickly that he stumbles backwards. The traitor slips from his grasp and falls to her knees near the baseboards.

Clutching his head with both hands, Caleb cries out. What is he forgetting? Why does it hurt? Why does everything hurt so much? He'd pushed his body hard in pursuit of the traitor, but now he was feeling the effects. His limbs felt heavy, his body sluggish. "It's alright, King Caleb," the woman says as she crawls closer to where he's brought low, crumpled over in pain and weariness. "You're safe here."

He shouldn't believe her. She likely wants to kill him or use him for blackmail, yet... even though he had gripped her by the neck, as she shuffles closer, it's compassion he sees in her eyes. How can this be?

Blinking a few times, the red clears from his vision. And he sees, the woman is Harper.

"It's okay," she says, hands in front of her like she's trying to calm a wounded animal. Maybe that's exactly what Caleb really

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He places his hand to his chest, realizing now that his wounds were bandaged. "What happened to me...?"

"Tristan and I got you out of the city," Harper says. "We're at some safe house... How much do

you remember?"

"A lot of it is a blur," Caleb says. His head still hurts but it's not as bad now, allowing him more presence of mind to think and remember.

"You fell out of a window," Harper says, filling in some of the blanks.

Caleb remembers... He was separated from Harper. He tried to get back to her by following her scent, but she was already long gone when he was confronted by his advisor. His Gamma.

George.

The man had looked so damn confident and so pleased with himself, almost to the point of glee. He'd cornered Caleb against a set of windows, flanked on either side by massive alpha bears. Behind George were more bears, soldiers, so many guns filled with silver bullets.

It would take a lot to actually kill an alpha as strong as Caleb, but in that moment, Caleb knew he was facing his own death.

15:29 Sat, Nov 23 GO.

"Long live the King," George,mocked, as he signaled the soldiers to fire.

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As the silver bullets tore through Caleb, he turned and jumped through the window. On the way down, his final thought... Harper... Run.

"I was betrayed," Caleb says now, to Harper in this dusty old house. "My Gamma..."

"We'll make him pay," says Tristan as he walks in through the front door. "Glad to see you alive, King Caleb, but you are in no shape to be moving around just yet."

"Well, you left me on the damn table," Caleb snaps, with no real heat behind it.

"We had to let your wounds heal some before we tried moving you again," Tristan says flatly. "We pulled sixty-three silver bullets out of you, and I'm still not totally sure we got them all."

Caleb gently twists his body this way and that, feeling each poke of discomfort. "That explains why I feel like swiss cheese. Help me to the couch then, damn it."

Tristan and Harper both help Caleb to his feet and together they shuffle toward the floral-pattern couch against the wall.

"A bed would be better," Harper says.

"All the bedrooms are upstairs," Tristan says.

Caleb, tough as he is, would not likely make it up a set of stairs right now. He feels like he might collapse just from inching across the floor.

A growl rises up in the back of his throat. He hates how helpless he feels. Like he's a damn kid again.

He glances at Harper and sees the red marks around her neck. He did that. Shit. Maybe it would be better if he was weaker.

This situation hasn't helped his paranoia or his rage. Even though she's helping him, Caleb still finds himself suspicious of Harper's presence. She shouldn't have hurt her though. Gods, he needs to get a grip.

When the reach the couch, he collapses down onto it. It's too small for him. He has to dangle his feet off the side.

"Harper," Tristan says. "Why don't you go see if there is any food in that kitchen?"

Harper looks between Tristan and Caleb, likely knowing she is being dismissed, before turning and leaving the room.

Tristan drops to sit on top of the coffee table. "Ask."

Caleb makes certain Harper is out of earshot, before saying, "Can we trust her?"

"You'd be dead without her," Tristan says blandly. "She sought you out and protected you until Leould get there." Tristan glances to the side.

"You aren't telling me everything," Caleb says. "I would know the full truth. Now."

Tristan sighs. "She could have escaped. I saw that Alpha Samuel sniffing around where you and she were hidden. He likely tried to convince her though I have no proof of it." ""But she didn't..."

"No. She stayed with you and protected you. She watched you while I secured a car." Tristan frowns. "A car I very much need to get rid of."

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"Drive it into a lake and watch it sink to the bottom," Caleb says. "My blood is likely all over it. We can't have any trackers

find their way here."

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"Agreed," Tristan says. He glances over his shoulder toward the kitchen. "I'll stop for supplies on the way back. She won't find anything in that kitchen."

"Good," Caleb says. From here, he can see Harper stretch to look up in a high cabinet. She's still wearing that tattered dress from the gala, but it's basically rags now. "I could use some time alone with my savior."C0pyright © 2024 Nôv)(elDrama.Org.

Tristan has no reaction to that. "I'll return in the morning," Caleb says.

At Caleb's nod, Tristan stands and walks out the front door. As the screen door slams behind him, Harper returns to the living room carrying a can so old it doesn't have a label on it anymore.

"Was that Tristan leaving?" she asks. From here, they can hear the car engine start up.

"Yes," Caleb says. "He'll get us some supplies."

"That's a relief," Harper says, holding up the can. "I don't think anyone's been here in fifty years. Everything's expired." She starts to place the can down on the kitchen table, but then stops herself at the last moment. With a frown, she takes a step away from the table. Caleb feels endeared to her in this moment, for all she's done for him.

"Come/here, consort," he commands. He pats his thigh, gesturing for her to sit on his lap. "Come and get your reward for protecting your King."